Chapter XIX: Book II: Founding the Kingdom (6)

The minister preached on the coming of the Israelites into the Land of Canaan. He began by reminding his hearers of the dangers which the Children of Israel had been obliged to pass through, and of the struggles and tribulations which they had been forced to endure. He set forth what had been promised them if they would remain faithful to the heritage of their fathers and obedient to the law which the Lord had given them as their guide.

Then, in powerful strokes, he sketched the history of Israel. First of all, how had the ten tribes fared? They had been taken as prisoners to a strange country; they had remained there and had forsaken their gods; and then they had disappeared, leaving no trace, like the morning dew on the face of the Great Prairie. Where were the ten tribes now? Not a word nor a sign remained of them—not even a chance name, here or there, to indicate where they must have been! Was it not significant that a whole people could disappear so completely?... How different the story of the two-tribe peoples! They, too, had been put in chains and treated as slaves; but they had been held in bonds of loyalty to their race and to Him who had nurtured them; and they had endured and prospered. And so, at last, they had come back to rebuild the ruined walls of Zion—and from their loins had sprung the Saviour of mankind!

Then the minister shifted the scene, applying the parable to those who stood before him; they, too, had wandered in search of a Land of Canaan; from the ancient home of their race they had fared forth, far away over the ocean into a foreign country; here they had settled now, here they proposed to strike root again; and here their seed would multiply from generation to generation, ages without end. True enough, they had no hostile nations to fight against—and for that they should thank the Lord! Yet there were other battles, for the powers of darkness never rested; here were the long journeys to town, with their strong temptations; here was the force of heathendom, which constantly threatened them; and here, in all probability, would soon come wealth! Here was the endless prairie, so rich in its blessings of fertility, but also full of a great loneliness—a form of freedom which curiously affected the minds of strangers, especially those to whom the Lord had given a sad heart. Even the bravest would find it hard to face and conquer the strangeness of it all, the hopeless chill, the overwhelming might of this great solitude.

The minister was now spinning out his thoughts and holding them forth in the light for the people to see; he grew in greatness and power before their watching eyes, as he showed them their own feelings during the lonely hours. But when he even came to the grasshoppers at last, then Tönseten could no longer restrain himself; he had to make manifest his approval in some way or other. With a firm hand he pushed against the back of the person in front of him, gaining the room to spit which he greatly needed; then he looked around at the others triumphantly, as if to say: “Well, didn’t I tell you—isn’t he a wonderful minister?” ... But there was no time to waste on such thoughts now!

For now the minister was busy with their future.... Did they fully understand what the Lord had given them here—and were they sufficiently grateful to Him for it?... The minister towered high and mighty before them.... In what manner had they thought to make use of the unbounded liberty which the Lord in His mercy had granted them? Here they were about to build a new kingdom—themselves to lay the foundations, themselves to raise the whole structure from the ground up. Had they begun to realize the greatness of that glorious responsibility which He had placed on their shoulders, and did they have sense enough in their heads to thank Him for it on bended knee?... He had spread before them here an opportunity the equal of which was unknown in human history; and here it would be tested out whether they could measure up to it—whether they were sprung from good stock or not—whether they were the children of free men or slaves.... Were they not glad of the chance?... Oh, they ought to sing like the birds of the plain in the morning sunrise—and then thank God, thank Him in all humility! In truth, they had not come here out of captivity and bondage—that, too, they should bear in mind in giving thanks. But they had found here the fairest promise that the Lord God had ever given to any people....

The words came with thrilling meaning; they took on a richer glow, a brighter texture, as the minister fired to his subject.... There was one point, he cried, where they and the ancient Children of Israel paralleled each other in a striking manner. For the kingdom which they were founding here would be a work of praise, a blessing to coming generations, only in so far as they remained steadfast to the truths implanted in them as children by their fathers. There was no other foundation to build upon; indeed, what other refuge did men have?... And now he stood here in their presence on this great day, a frail messenger of the Lord, to bring them this solemn question: Would they do as the ten lost tribes of Israel did, and disappear out of the world, or would they do as the two tribes had done, and never perish among men?...

The minister’s voice had sunk low, but his words bore in upon them with irresistible power; his eyes glowed with a secret light; his cheeks burned with the flush of his inspiration; all his boyish youthfulness had gone, and in its place was speaking the authority of ripe, mature experience.

The people sat and stood about while he was preaching, hanging on every word he said. Only a few were competent to climb the ladder of reasoning that he had raised for them. The others realized that he was preaching well, and let it go at that; it gave them a simple satisfaction just to listen; they rejoiced in their hearts that such a man had come here to-day; they felt that he wished them well. And it was so fine and jolly, too, this gathering together; now there would be some excitement in the settlement.... One was thinking about the congregation that they would have to organize; another about the location of the new church; still another about the cemetery, as to where it would probably be located; and to everyone the thought came that men would be needed to manage these activities; well, they would show him that they could govern themselves, that they were a well-conducted people!... One woman had it in mind that they would of course start a ladies’ aid, now that they had a minister; and that would be great fun, with meetings and cakes and coffee and sewing and all the rest; she proposed to begin some embroidering at once! But those who had not yet been confirmed dreaded the ordeal a little, though at the same time they were glad; at any rate, there would be a change in the daily monotony, and they would of course have some fine new clothes for the confirmation!... Tönseten had fallen into deep and serious thought concerning a matter of great importance—of very great importance. He was wondering how he could manage to help the minister out in the most valuable way.... Now, when the congregation was organized, they would as a matter of course have to elect a _klokker_![22] Well, if he had been able to splice a couple so that the knot held even before the Lord, he certainly ought to be able to serve as _klokker_.... He would have to see about it later on....

[22] A church official having partly the duty of cantor and partly of sexton. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries a _candidatus theologiæ_ when deemed too great a blockhead to receive ordination to the holy ministry, was often appointed _klokker_.

In the farthest corner by the stove sat a pale, delicate-featured woman, almost hidden by those in front of her. As soon as the minister began to talk she bent her head forward and a little to one side, until she had found an opening through which she could get a glimpse of his face. She listened intently to the sermon—at first with a wondering, happy look, which slowly grew skeptical and sad; all the while her eyes did not release their hold on the speaker. As the sermon progressed, the expression on her face became covert and cunning; her lips moved as if she were making objections, but no sound came.... “That! No, that shall not happen—it shall not happen!” was what the face seemed to say.... “He is playing us false ... this man ... he will lead us to something that is not good.” ...

By her side sat a man with a handsome, fair-skinned little boy in his lap; the boy had sparkling blue eyes, which flitted about from face to face, looking at everyone, laughing mischievously when the look was caught and returned.... Now and then the man laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder, as if to reassure her; then she smiled strangely; she had no time to look at him, but the smile seemed to say: “Don’t worry, he shall not deceive me.... I understand it all.... He is sly, though, isn’t he?” ...

When the hymn following the sermon had been sung, the minister said to them:

“Now, it is my advice that those who have been sitting all this time, and have the strength to stand, change places with those who have been standing; in this way we may help to bear one another’s burdens. Let the change be made with order and decency.... We shall now perform the holy act of baptism. I should appreciate it if all you grown people would remain, and thus call to mind your own sacred covenant with the Lord.... First let all unbaptized children come forward; and afterward those who have been christened at home.”

At this a considerable disturbance arose in the crowd; some people got up and pushed their way out of the door, talking in low tones as they squeezed through the throng; at the same time several who had remained outside during the sermon pushed their way in; hitherto they had heard only the voice, but now they wanted to get a glimpse of the man....

Sörine came in with a basin of water which she placed on the table, and laid a clean towel beside it.

Those who were to hold the children now took them in their arms and came forward; the sponsors stood up and looked around; there was scant room to move in the stifling crush, and several people had to go out at this moment; but little by little the disorder subsided, so that the ceremony could begin.

Most of the grown people knew the baptismal hymn by heart, and although the air was heavy and close in the crowded hut, the singing rose with great fervour. There were fourteen children who had not been baptized, one of them only three weeks old—a tiny being whose arrival had been looked for in the fond hope that it might turn out to be a baby girl, as indeed it had, and who now lay sweetly sleeping in its mother’s arms.

The first child to be baptized was four years old—a big, fat, dark-haired, hungry lump of a boy, who talked out loud and wanted to get down and run over to his mother. He didn’t seem to appreciate in the least what was about to be done for him, and aroused a good deal of merriment among the onlookers. However, the ceremony soon went on with all proper calm and decorum.... Josie, the one for whom Tönseten had performed the marriage rite, came last of all; she had three children, and had striven hard to get them ready for this service; she carried the youngest in her own arms. Tönseten regarded her and her offspring with a certain fatherly pride, and folded his hands devoutly as she came forward.

Then came three children who had been privately baptized by laymen. Sörine advanced first, holding up for his second christening the child at whose birth she had been present and for whom she had once before stood sponsor; the boy awakened in the arms of his godmother, turning two bright blue eyes toward the minister; he laughed aloud and asked Sörine who that man was with the whiskers and the long black skirt? Sörine tried by petting him to hush him up.... “He doesn’t have any pants!” said the boy, still laughing and putting his arms around her neck; those who stood near enough to overhear were doubled up with mirth.

But as the pastor asked the child’s name and she gave it, and he repeated it clearly and distinctly, so as to be heard throughout the room—“Peder Victorious, dost thou renounce—” ... something extraordinary happened. From out that pale face over in the corner came a sound of anguish. Beret rose up and pushed her way violently through the crowd, which moved aside in sudden alarm to let her pass, then closed immediately in behind her; Per Hansa tried to follow, but found it hard to make a passage through the throng, which now was crowding forward in order to get a better view; and all at once her voice, shrill and vibrant, pierced the room: “This evil deed shall not be done!” ... She was already halfway there. Some blocked her passage; others tried to silence her.... “Oh, let me go!” she cried. “This sin shall not happen! How can a man be _victorious_ out here, where the evil one gets us all!... Are you all stark mad?” Her cries were shrill and piercing; they rose with a wild tremor of anguish, striking terror into the hearts of the men who stood about, not knowing what to do; the women hid their faces and did not dare to look; some of the weaker-nerved began to weep hysterically; on one of the beds a little girl had thrown herself face downward, crying and screaming; two half-grown boys, overcome by the horror of it, silently pressed their cheeks against the sod wall; the doorway was now crowded with curious faces, one tier above another. All wanted to see what was going on.

The minister paused in the service.

“Take your wife outside, Peder Holm! The air in here is close and bad for a sick person. I will talk to her afterward.... And the rest of you—please keep quiet!”

It took some time to calm the morbid excitement. Per Hansa had finally reached Beret; he lifted her in his arms, but the people crowded around so densely that it was difficult to get through, and all the while Beret was striking out wildly, pulling and pushing in a frantic effort to escape. She foamed at the mouth.... “This is the work of the devil!” she muttered through clenched teeth.... “Now he will surely take my little boy!... God save us—we perish!”

The meeting lasted inordinately long. When the pastor was finally through he announced divine services again two weeks from the following Sunday; at that time he would return to them and conduct Communion. “There must be many of you who need to unburden your hearts before your God and Father in Heaven!” he went on impressively. “We shall begin the service here in this room, promptly at eleven o’clock.” Hesitating for a moment, he looked around at the people and a tired smile crossed his face; in a lower voice he continued: “It would not be amiss, I think, if you men were to dress up a little; to the Lord it makes no difference, but it would seem more like the Lord’s day for you, and you would be edified thereby.”

IV

After the service the people remained standing around in groups out in the yard, talking about the minister and the sermon, and discussing in low tones the sad thing that had happened that day. The latter event claimed most of their attention. Everyone felt great sympathy for this family on whom adversity had laid such a heavy hand; some thought it was very wrong for Per Hansa to keep a person like Beret at home; a tragedy might happen at any time—and then it would be too late; various incidents of this kind were recalled; some remembered also that Per Hansa himself was a hard-hearted sinner who needed serious admonition; but they were all sorry for him, just the same.

None of the people of the house were to be seen. The crowd outside stood looking around, as if waiting for something to happen; no one wanted to leave until he knew....

A few women were still inside the house; they had planned to stay and help put things in order. Among them was Sörine, still carrying the child in her arms. The women were plainly anxious and disturbed; they talked in subdued voices, and couldn’t seem to take hold of the work with any heart.

The minister had seated himself at the table, folded his hands, and laid his head upon them; thus he sat for a long while in silence; then, as if noticing the people in the room for the first time, he got up and walked over to the group of women.

“I would suggest,” he said, gently, “that you all go home. Only let some one of you who is well acquainted here remain to help; if more are needed, we will send for you.... Let me have that fine little boy awhile,” he said to Sörine.... “Of course, I think it would be better if you all came often to see her, but never more than one at a time. And never ask her how she is feeling; just take it for granted that everything is as it should be. To me, things do not look entirely hopeless here; I believe it will all come right in the end. Yes, I truly believe it.” ... He took the boy on his knee, and began to play with him.

“God grant that it might happen as he says!” sighed Kjersti.

The minister heard her.

“In His name, nothing is impossible!... Now I should leave at once, if I were you. Let the one who is best acquainted here, stay behind.”

Then the minister took the boy in his arms and went out into the yard; he approached each group standing there, talked to them quietly, and advised them to go home and keep to themselves as much as they could.... “For the word of God,” he said, “is like seed put into the ground; it must be undisturbed, if it is to germinate and bear fruit; but if it is too deeply covered, it will fail.” ...

“We were just talking about organizing a congregation, you see.” The speaker looked in astonishment at the minister. Could it be wrong to discuss that idea?

“The time for that will come later on, without a doubt.” ... The minister raised his voice.... “Now I will ask each one of you kindly to go to his own home, remain quiet the rest of the day, and think about what you have heard.”

“Well, yes—that’s probably all right, of course ... but anyhow....”

The minister turned away and went to another group; the man had to quit talking and make the best of it. But he thought to himself: this must be a funny sort of minister who hasn’t time to discuss such an important matter as organizing a congregation!

Group after group broke up and melted away; people moved slowly homeward, and soon there was no one left in the yard; the day had closed and night was fast coming on.

The minister remained outside for some time, walking about the yard, still clad in his canonical robe; the boy toddled along beside him, hanging on to the black gown as if it were a great joke, and thoroughly enjoying himself with this queer man.

At length the minister bent his steps toward the new sod stable, from which seemed to come the sound of voices and the whimpering cry of a child; he took up the boy in his arms, went over to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. The room had no windows; it was so dark in there that as he peered about, coming straight from the twilight, he could not make out the objects clearly. He was at once aware, however, of the presence of people; he walked farther in, looking around for what he knew was there.

They were sitting on a bundle of hay—Per Hansa and Beret, she with her face pressed close against his, he with one arm about her neck and the other about her waist; And-Ongen clung to her father’s shoulder, her arms clasped tightly around his neck.

“The sweet peace of God be upon you!” said the pastor, gently, as soon as he had discovered them. “The people have all gone. And now, Mother Holm, I should like very much to have you cook us a good cup of coffee, if there is any in your house; I want to take supper with you.”

The sound of his voice startled Beret. She sat up, brushed her hair back, and looked around with a puzzled expression. She felt abashed, just like a modest person with too few clothes on who unexpectedly finds himself in the presence of others.

“Oh, is this where we are?” she muttered, bending over and covering her eyes.

“I want something to eat!” cried the boy, tearing himself from the minister as soon as he heard his mother’s voice.

She seized the child frantically and hugged him close to her; pushing her face down in the hollow of his neck, she drank and drank....

“No, no, Beret—don’t be so violent!” begged her husband. “Please be careful!”

Then she threw back her head, the pale face flushed and distorted. “Am I not to love my own child!”

The minister came up to her and laid his hand on her head.

“That’s quite right, Mother Holm! Love him all you can; but do not forget to thank Him who has given you this precious gift. There is the promise of a splendid man in that fine boy; you will surely have much joy in him!”

Beret ceased caressing the boy and sat bent over him, listening to the words of the minister. Then she rose hurriedly and smoothed down her dress; again the minister got the impression that in some curious way she felt ashamed. Without saying a word, she took a child by either hand and walked out of the stable.

Per Hansa remained sitting on the pile of hay, resting his head on one hand; his hair and beard were unkempt, and quite grizzled now; his face was deeply furrowed, as if by the marks of a ruthless hand; his whole figure seemed fearfully ravaged and broken, like a forest maple shattered by a storm.

The minister sat down beside him; he began to confess Per Hansa with all the gentleness of a sympathetic and understanding pastor.

“Now tell me everything. Two can carry what one alone cannot lift. Tell me everything from the beginning.”

Without changing his position, Per Hansa looked down at the hay, sighed, and began to talk in broken accents: “I don’t understand it myself, you see.... I only know that damnation has come down upon us.... It can’t continue much longer—I’ll probably have to _send her away_.” Again he sighed, and then became silent.

It seemed to the minister as if the sum total of human tragedy sat talking to him.... A chill had entered the dimly lighted room.

“Perhaps you are right ... otherwise, the cross might become too heavy for you to bear!”

A long pause fell.

“But she is not entirely deranged, is she?”

“Partly or entirely—what difference does it make? If the fiddle is cracked, it’s cracked....”

“Maybe so ... yes, yes....”

Still looking down at the hay, Per Hansa continued:

“I don’t know that I am guilty of any other wrong toward her than that our oldest boy came before we were married; but in that matter we were equally to blame.... And then I brought her out here. I suppose that there is where the real trouble lies.... I don’t believe she grieves much about that other affair.... No, it’s this business out here—and for the life of me I can’t see any sin in it.”

“I think I understand,” said the minister, gently.

“But is a man to refuse to go where his whole future calls, only because his wife doesn’t like it?” ... The question sprang out of Per Hansa’s soul, as if he were for the first time opening the door to many years of pent-up suffering. He turned his strong, resolute face toward the minister, begging for an answer.

“Indeed he may, my good man,” said the minister, earnestly. “But it would be better if they were both agreed upon it.”

“Agreed, yes—easy enough to say!... When the only disagreement, for instance, was that she advised waiting another year!... And it isn’t so much what she has said since we came out here.... Now. I wish you would tell me—” Per Hansa spoke softly, almost diffidently. “Suppose a husband and wife cannot agree—what, then, is he to do?”

The minister felt through the question the aching need of the man for relief and comfort.

“_Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh_,” he quoted. “There you have the Lord’s decree. But if the law applies to man, it must apply to woman as well. Between you two there has, as I understand it, been no real disagreement?”

Per Hansa shook his head; the words came with great difficulty:

“I sometimes wonder if there ever were two people who cared quite as much for each other as we do.... But that hasn’t made things any easier; you can’t lift the ocean, whether it rages in a storm or lies quiet in a flat calm.... And now, please tell me, you who are a minister and understand the Scriptures, _What is the man to do_?” Per Hansa grasped the minister by the arm, clutching hard in his terrible agitation.

“He shall humble himself before the Lord his God, and shall take up his cross to bear it with patience!” said the minister, impressively.

“Ha-ha!” Per Hansa suddenly burst out in a bitter laugh. “That’s too scanty a fare for me to live on. You’d better put that kind of talk aside.... I ask as an ignorant man, and I must have an answer that I can understand: Did I do right or did I do wrong when I brought her out here? And what should I have done instead, when I saw nothing else ahead of me in the world?”

“That time you undoubtedly did right, my good man, if what you have told me is true; a man must go whither his heart and mind lead him, unless the Lord comes and says no.... You did right that time; but since then you have let yourself sink into the mire of a great sin, as I am told. And now you grumble—like those Israelites of yore—because the Lord is leading you on paths that you do not wish to follow.... You are not willing to bear your cross with humility!”

“No, I am not; and let me tell you something more.” Per Hansa’s voice hardened. “We find other things to do out here than to carry crosses!” Then he fell silent. The minister tried to find words with which to reprove him; but in a moment Per Hansa began again—and now it was he who rebuked the minister: “My experience has been that it is mighty easy for one to talk about things he has not tried!... I have sweat blood over this thing—and now I’m no longer equal to it.... Have you ever thought what it means for a man to be in constant fear that the mother may do away with her own children—and that, besides, it may be his fault that she has fallen into that state of mind?”

When the minister finally answered, he had become all gentleness again. “No, thanks and praise to God, such affliction He has spared me!” He put one arm over Per Hansa’s shoulder. “Tell me how all this came about.”

Per Hansa sat for a while without answering; he seemed like a man trying to climb a steep hill, whose strength has given out; all at once he got up and went over to the door, standing there and looking out a long time into the darkness of the night. The minister followed him....

“There isn’t much to say about such things,” Per Hansa began. “She has never felt at home here in America.... There are some people, I know now, who never should emigrate, because, you see, they can’t take pleasure in that which is to come—they simply can’t see it!... And yet, she has never reproached me. And in spite of everything, we got along fairly well up to the time when our last child was born.... Yes, the one you baptized to-day.... Then she took a notion that she was going to die—but I didn’t understand it at the time.... She has never had the habit of fault-finding.... She struggled hard when the child was born, and we all thought she wouldn’t survive—or him, either. That’s why we had to baptize him at once. In my heedless joy, after the worst was over and things had turned out all right, I went and gave him that second name.... And then everything seemed to go to pieces!”

“That name ...?”

“Yes, the second name. It was very wrong of me, I know. I see that now.”

“What are you saying, man? Such a beautiful name!”

Per Hansa looked at him.... “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course I mean it! It is the handsomest name I can ever remember giving to any child. _Peder Victorious_—why, it sings like a beautiful melody!”

“Please tell me—is it really a human name? And wasn’t it a sacrilege on my part?” asked Per Hansa, incredulously, hardly daring yet to acknowledge his joy.

“My dear man, have you worried about that, too?”

“Have I?... Don’t mention it!... You mean that the name is all right?”

“Yes, indeed,” said the minister without hesitation. “There is nothing unusual about it, except that you have happened to find a more beautiful form than I have yet heard; the name itself is common in all languages.”

Per Hansa gazed at the minister, bringing his face close up in order to see him better in the growing dusk of the evening. Slowly his eyes began to light with a new courage; he took a deep breath, and straightened his body up for the first time in many a long day.

“I must ask you again, for I am an ignorant man: Is this really true?... And won’t you please tell her the same thing, too—as soon as you can?”

“I certainly will.... So she does not like the name?”

“No; that’s the trouble.... She believes it is an idea that the devil himself has given me in order to get us more completely in his power—but this we didn’t realize before her mind began to cloud. Now she can’t bear to hear the name; that’s why the attack came on her this afternoon, when you fastened it on the boy for good.... I was afraid, too, that something like that might happen.”

“Well, well! Is this possible? How long has she had these attacks?”

“It began with the grasshoppers.... However, she’s always had the heavy heart to fight against.... And then, those fears of hers—just utter fancies! Can you understand how a person gets possessed by fear, right on the level, solid ground?”

“You say it began with the grasshoppers?”

“Well, sir, I came home from work one evening to find a crazy woman!... She thought it was the devil himself who had cast the plague upon us—and maybe she wasn’t far wrong in that, either!... Pretty soon she began to see visions of her mother, who had been dead for some time then, though we hadn’t got the news....”

“What’s that you are saying?”

“Yes, sir, she saw her mother; and, will you believe it, she knew that her mother was dead half a year before the letter came!... Oh, you can’t imagine how bad it was!” The terrors that he had lived through seemed fairly to choke him as he remembered the awful scenes.

“She could not have actually seen a dead person! She must have been seriously deranged.”

“Yes—may God help us!—she both saw her and talked with her!... One night I lay asleep, the first summer after the grasshoppers had come. I had saved my whole crop and got it in. Suddenly I was awakened by some one talking aloud in the room. And there she was, pacing back and forth in the middle of the floor and talking to her mother, exactly as though she were sitting by her side.... I know that she saw her, I tell you; and the child—she was carrying the child in her arms!” ... Per Hansa’s breath failed him for a moment.... “‘It’s no use, mother,’ she said. ‘The boy can’t come to you with a name that Satan has tricked Per into giving him!’ Those were the very words she used. I got up, lighted a candle, and as I watched her pacing there, with the little fellow in her arms, then, at last, I saw how it was with her ... I saw it then. Until that time I had refused to believe it.... Pastor,” whispered Per Hansa, “do you know what it means to feel the skin creep up your back?” ...

“Did she try to harm the child?”

“Not then.” He shook his head. “I can’t say whether she had such thoughts or not; but she took the notion that her mother wanted the child with her.... The rest came later.” Per Hansa pulled himself together with a strong effort.... “It will be two years this summer; it happened toward evening, one day when the grasshoppers came in such numbers that it was hard to see the sky. If Sörrina, our neighbour woman, hadn’t been making us a visit, it’s hard telling ... but there she sat, holding the child.”

“The Lord show mercy unto you!”

“Well may you say it!... That afternoon, when the grasshoppers began to beat like hail against the walls, she remembered that some of the little fellow’s clothes were lying outside to dry. She ran out to get them, but when she picked them up there was nothing left but a few tatters of cloth.... Then the spell came over her in an instant, you understand. She ran into the house like a mad woman, wailing: ‘Now the devil has come for your clothes.... He’d better have you, too.... Until he gets you we will have no peace!’ ... Then she grabbed for the child!” Per Hansa groaned aloud.... “But what might have been in her mind I cannot say. I forgot to tell you,” he went on, controlling himself once more, “that the very night before, her mother was in the room with her; Beret talked with her just as plainly as I now stand here talking to you. She had got up and dressed herself, and was telling her mother all about everything, the way women do ... and, would you believe it, she wanted to cook coffee for her!... ‘We aren’t so poor as all that!’ she told her mother.”

“And how was it afterward?” the minister asked, deeply moved.

“Well, you see,” said Per Hansa, wiping his eyes, “I had to do something about it. So I persuaded her to let Sörrina take the child during the summer.”

“You got her to agree to that?”

“Yes, after a while; at first she wouldn’t hear of it, but finally she gave in. And now I don’t know whether I did right or wrong; I believe it hurt her terribly to have the little fellow gone. I saw how she wandered about the room, as if longing to care and do for him, but he was not there.... And one night after the plague came—I couldn’t lie awake every night, you know—she got up quietly and stole over to the house where he was.... She wanted to get the child. Whether she intended to do him harm or not, none of us can be sure. She told Sörrina and Hans Olsa that visitors had come from afar, asking to see the boy, and so she must have him; there wasn’t any way out of it. Yes, that’s what she said!”

“The Lord has certainly laid a heavy cross upon you! But remember, He will remove it in His own good time!... Now, tell me, how is she between these attacks?”

“Well, you see, she may be all right for months; one who had never known her well would hardly suspect that anything was wrong with her during this time; she does her work like all the rest of us. In the dead of winter, of course, when the blizzards are raging and we don’t see any other folks for weeks at a time, she has days when she seems to go all to pieces; but I hardly reckon that as the disease—that sort of thing happens to a good many of us, let me tell you!”

“What do you intend to do about it this summer?”

“This summer?” ... Per Hansa’s face was drawn with fear as he turned to the minister.... “If Satan lets his hosts loose upon us again this summer, then I don’t know what will happen!”

The minister patted him on the shoulder:

“Take no thought for the morrow! The plague cannot last forever. And remember that the Lord is always near. As the number of thy days, so shall thy strength be. And now take this advice from me: From now on keep close to her; be toward her as you were during those happy days when you first got her; let your affection warm her into the understanding that it is good to be human; and lighten her burdens in every way.... Above everything, do not take her child away from her again. You will simply have to be as watchful as you can.... And now I will perhaps stay here to-night; arrange it so that I can be alone with her awhile to-morrow.” ...

The minister gazed before him in deep thought, his heart wrung with pity and compassion. “Perhaps the Lord will allow me to reach her mind with a clarifying idea. His word is living life and can move mountains.... When I return you must take her to Communion.”

His hand was patting the shoulder on which it rested. Per Hansa wept, his sobs coming in short gasps that shook his frame; he experienced a blessing descending upon him, and his burden grew lighter. There was much more he wanted to say, but just now he could not speak....

A long pause followed; then the minister spoke again: “Let us not stand here longer in fear and darkness, talking about sad things; our bodies need nourishment.”

They walked across the yard in the quiet prairie evening, Per Hansa so happy that he could gladly have offered the minister his whole crop as it stood in all its beauty ... and he had a hundred acres seeded in, counting it near and far.

Just as they reached the door of the hut somebody rounded the corner on the run and called in a quick, scared voice, “_Father_!”

Both men jumped, so suddenly had the figure come out of the darkness.

“Is that you, Ola? What are you up to, anyway?”

“Father, come here!” The boy grasped Per Hansa by the arm and tried to pull him along. “Hans is sitting up on the Indian mound, crying and taking on! I can’t get him to come home!”

“Is he sick?”

“No!”

“What’s the matter with him, then?” The father shook the boy.

“He is afraid of mother ... you must come right away!”

The boy sped away into the darkness.

Per Hansa gave the minister a look which seemed to say: “Now you see how things are here!” ... And all the radiance that for a moment had lighted up his soul was suddenly gone out. He asked the minister to enter.... “Tell them that I and the boys will be right along.” ... Then he too disappeared.

The minister stood there for a while in deep uncertainty; at last he turned toward the door, made the sign of the cross in front of it, said a prayer, then opened it and went in.

* * * * *

... But across the fields ran Ole, and the father went after him.

“Where is he?”

“Over there!”

“You run home. I guess I can find him. Is it over there by the grave?”

“Yes ... here ...”

Ole vanished on the other side of the mound.

“Store-Hans, where are you keeping yourself?”

A smothered cry came through the darkness.

Per Hansa followed the sound and almost stumbled over a writhing form which lay on the ground; he bent over and lifted it up in his arms.

“Hansy-boy, what’s the matter?”

The father sat down with the limp, slender body of the boy in his arms, rocking and lulling it.

“Is ... is ... mother queer again?”

“No, indeed! Mother is all right, and now supper is ready.”

“Did ... did she ... kill Permand?”

Per Hansa took a firmer hold of the boy, got up, and started to run.

“Did she do it?”

The father spoke harshly:

“I don’t want to hear any more of such wicked talk! Mother is all right ... all of us are ... and now she has supper ready, and everything.” He stopped and set the boy down. “Now wipe your face—we can’t come into the house this way.” ... The father began to dry the boy’s tear-stained face. “You must wash yourself as soon as you get in the house,” he said, gently, taking the boy by the hand.

V

Nothing out of the ordinary happened that evening. When the minister came into the hut he greeted them in an even voice, “God’s peace upon this house!” Then he took off his vestments, folded them up and put them in his valise, looked around for a chair, and sat down. And now that he had removed his official garb he looked like a different man; the special odour of sanctity that had rested on him seemed to have departed; he sat there quietly, having little to say, looking like a man who has just passed through a great hardship and is very tired.... The table was set for supper; upon it had been placed one candle, and another stood on a little shelf by the stove. Sörine was still in the house, bustling about and helping with the meal; And-Ongen sat on one of the beds, playing with her baby brother, who had been washed and dressed for the night and was now ready to be put to sleep. Sörine kept talking and laughing with the children as she worked, and an air of cheerfulness had come over the room.

Beret stood by the stove, bent over, washing some pots and pans; she glanced once over her shoulder at the minister as he sat down; but very soon she had to look again. And then she did something that she often wondered at afterward: she wiped her hands, took a clean bowl from the cupboard, filled it with fresh milk, and offered it to him, saying: “Have some milk, please, to stay your hunger while you wait.”

The minister took the bowl without looking at her; he emptied it at one draught, put it down, and thanked her in a few brief words.

Almost immediately Beret grew bashful and uneasy over what she had done; in her nervousness she picked up a shirt that she was making for one of the boys, sat down by the candlelight near the stove, and began to sew as hard as she could; but she kept her face turned away from the minister.

Per Hansa and the boys came in; Sörine announced that supper was ready; the four men sat down and began the meal. The minister looked at the younger boy; his face was swollen, his eyes were red with weeping; a heavy veil seemed to hide his handsome features. At the sight of the boy the minister felt more like crying than eating; a sudden revulsion overcame him. Laying down his knife and fork, he asked for another bowl of milk, which he emptied slowly, and then waited for the others to get through. When he thought they had finished, he folded his hands on the table and began to pray to the unseen one whose presence was always near.

So quickly did he begin, that at first Per Hansa didn’t realize what was going on and was on the point of asking the minister what he said. The same thing happened to the others: Ole had just discovered that he wasn’t quite satisfied, and was reaching for another piece of bread; Sörine was about to offer them all more coffee. But Beret sat bowed over her sewing, trying to catch every word; she took a few stitches, and then the work dropped to her lap; something compelled her to turn and look at him. The light of the candle cast a reddish gleam over his face; his beard seemed more silvery than ever; the countenance was that of a good child who is tired and wants to be put to bed.... His voice was gentle and low.... He is really a fine man, thought Beret, and kept on listening....

During the summer there are at times dark days on the prairie; the rain is cold, the fog dreary and dank, sticking to one’s clothes like wool. But it may happen that toward evening, just as the day is nearly done, a curtain is suddenly drawn aside; in the western sky appears a window—not built by the hand of man—all luminous with splendour; out of it shines a radiance clearer and more glorious than anything the eye has ever beheld; all around the window night and darkness hang suspended like draperies—they too radiating a glory not of this world.... Thus was the splendour which now pervaded Per Hansa’s sod house. All had folded their hands without knowing it. Over on the bed the play continued; happy laughter arose, though it did not seem to disturb the prayer. But after a while that also quieted down.... Then Permand heard the voice of the one he had been playing with earlier in the evening; it tempted him so hard that he could not resist; clad in his little nightdress, he crawled out of the bed, toddled across the earthen floor to the minister, put both hands on the knees that rose before him, and looked up merrily into the man’s face. All who saw it felt shocked at the impropriety; they wanted to stop the child, but only feared a greater impropriety in anything they might do. Per Hansa was on the point of speaking sharply, but his voice failed; Sörine thought of snatching the child away, but only remained motionless and aghast, ... “I suppose I shall have to do it myself,” thought Beret—yet she, too, could not get up from her chair.... The child had entered a glory where no one dared to follow.... Without interrupting his flow of words, the minister lifted the boy onto his knees, folded the baby hands within his own, and went on with the prayer.... “Oh, this is too bad!” cried Beret to herself, struggling to rise. “The child’s nightshirt is dirty—he mustn’t sit there!” But still she could not get up from her chair: the one with whom the minister was talking stood too near.... The words flowed on without a pause, softly and sweetly, like the warm rain of a summer evening. It was as if the minister had much to confide to that other one; the other one seemed to be objecting, as if He hesitated to do what was asked; then the minister prayed more fervently; not that he raised his voice—the words came with the same gentleness—but he threw his whole soul into them, as if he refused on any account to give in.

At last he came to the little boy who sat there on his lap—the child he had christened that day. And it seemed almost uncanny to listen to what he said; one could hardly make out whether he was talking to the unseen being or to the boy himself; at times it sounded as if they might be one and the same.... He laid his hand tenderly on the child’s head; his eyes seemed closed, but the words had caught a new inspiration; to those who listened, it seemed a wonderful thing....

“Set him aside, O God,” the pastor prayed, “as Thou didst formerly with Thy chosen ones in times of yore!... Set him aside, and consecrate him as a true Nazarene!... Let him indeed fulfil the promise of his splendid name and become a true _victor_ here, both over himself and for the salvation of his people.... And now may Thy blessed peace rest on this house, for ever and ever ... Amen!”

He sat with closed eyes for some time, his hand still resting on the boy’s head; the others were very still. Beret trembled throughout her body; a choking feeling came over her, and at last she had to cough. She glanced down in confusion at her sewing.

“I haven’t done this right!” she thought, distractedly, trying to calm herself. She looked at the sewing again, got up to fetch the shears, and ripped out what she had been doing.

Then the minister began to play with the boy, in a natural, happy way; and in a little while they both seemed to be having great fun. But he didn’t have anything to say to the others; and they, in turn, couldn’t find anything to say to him.

But the next morning, as they sat at the breakfast table, the minister was both merry and talkative, and helped himself so liberally to the food that it was a pleasure just to see him do it. He asked many questions regarding the life and conditions in that vicinity, and showed himself so well informed about farming that Per Hansa asked, without thinking, whether he had ever been a farmer.... Then he suddenly remembered what the minister had told him to do the evening before; he got up hastily, called to the boys, and they left the house together.

The moment they were gone Beret grew very uneasy; she found her sewing again, and sat down with it in a furtive, embarrassed way. The minister could see nothing unusual about her, except that her face was so singularly childlike; this impression came mostly from the way she used her eyes; it was hard to find them, because she kept looking down in extreme bashfulness and timidity; nor could he seem to easily draw her into conversation.

He came over and stood beside her chair.

“Well, now, Mrs. Holm, I have a request to make of you. Two weeks from next Sunday I shall return; and then I plan to conduct Communion services here in your house.”

Beret was so astonished to hear these words, that she forgot herself for a moment and looked straight at him.

“Here in our sod house?”

“Yes, right here in your house, where you live every day.... Don’t you think it would be a blessing for you to come to the Lord with your sins and taste the sweetness of His mercy?” he said in a quiet voice.

“Here ...?” she asked, greatly agitated. “Oh no—that would never do—oh no!... It’s too filthy and dirty here.... There’s too much ... it’s _unclean_!” ... She stopped abruptly, blushed scarlet, and looked down into her lap again.